Rebirth of Old Magicks
by Rumblerore
Summary: Magic is growing weak but there is one child that could save her yet. Harry Potter awakes on his seventh birthday to find he is the son of Sirius Black and Cassandra Malfoy. Arcturus Black finds the heir he needs, Antares Altair Black, and raises him in the traditions of the Old Ways.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I do not own the Harry Potter Series nor the original story that this is based off those rights belong to J. K Rowling and the characters in this story are owned or based off the series created by J. K Rowling as well. Also this is the first story I have ever really wrote and all feedback is welcome. Enjoy**

Number 4 Privet Drive was just as plain, simple and boring as any other house so it seemed, the only difference lay in the dark locked away. Harry Potter lay in his cot waiting for his nineth birthday staring at a broken watch as the seconds ticked by drawing closer and closer to midnight. Harry was a quiet boy with unruly black hair, a scrawny body, piercing green eyes and a strange scar on his forehead in the shape of a lightning bolt.

As he lay there he felt resentment rearing it's ugly head again as his thoughts drifted to his family or lack of rather. Harry was an orphan. He lived with his uncle, aunt and cousin, the Dursleys who despised him for his 'freakishness', Harry wasn't stupid, he saw how his aunt and uncle reacted to the subject of magic. He saw the conspiratorial glances his aunt and uncle shared when something odd happened and the accusing startes when something bad happened.

Being curious he started researching and experimenting. After managing to levitate a twig at the park while hiding from his cousin Dudley. Harry wasn't stupid or a 'freak', he was magical.

Harry became adapt at small feats of magic and over the last couple months leading up to his birthday grew familiar and comfortable with his gift.

As he sat in the dark with a small ball of light sitting by his bed he watched on as the last few seconds passed by, as it struck 12 Harry Potter ceased to exist.

*

Arcturus Black slowly made his way to his study and eased himself into his desk chair. A grand old thing large and daunting, that used to reflect upon the grandeur of the House of Black. He was growing old and with no direct successors it seemed his house ended with him, going to the Malfoy heir simply to become a notch in his belt or a meaningless title.

Arcturus knew it was inevitable at this stage all the sons of his house were dead or as good as and all the daughter's of his house were married off or as good as dead too. The only hope he truly had left is if Regulus miraculously returned or Sirius had himself a child. However he had explored those possibilities and they had lead to nothing.

No, the House of Black was simply at it's end but the Black Patriarch was a proud man so he would see his family through till his dying breath. As he let out a haggard and disheartened sigh he began going through paperwork.

Consumed by his work he barely noticed the clock striking 12 and the spike in the family magic.

*

Sirius Black sat in his cell as the guards patrolled checking everything was in order. For the first time in a week or so he was forced to truly feel the effects of Azkaban, barely able to suppress reacting to the dementors. 'Never show weakness, anyone will take the chance to take advantage it. You are a Black, you will not be taken advantage of.' He silently repeated to himself like a mantra.

It was times like these that he truly began to feel sorry for himself as he embraced his family. Under his breath he cursed the House of Black but continued with the words his grandfather drilled into him so long ago. His family was something that plagued his mind regularly here, he didn't exactly have many fond memories of them. With his cousin Bellatrix just down the hall cackling madly he was easily reminded of them. "Crazy bitch!" he yelled out, a grin making its way onto his face and she reacted explosively, getting under her skin being the only fun he tended to get in there.

However as much as one part of him hated his family another held pride he was a Black. He supposed that it was his mum and cousins that truly were a problem. The blood supremacy was also not great but again more his immediate family and cousins.

Blood purity was a different matter entirely, it didn't matter what generation witch or wizard you were, it was a matter of if you had magic or not. Blood purity was about keeping magic alive, growing with the introduction of new magic and lines. Guided from the Original 12 Families of Magick.

Sirius' beliefs aligned with traditional blood purist views as did his Grandfather, Sirius tried to convince James to understanding but James was never that traditional anyway.

However, if he hadn't already Arcturus wouldn't be the Patriarch much longer. He was ancient when Sirius was still a child and the family most likely be a supremacist house. That, was something Sirius could never accept.

The guards were roughing someone up down the hall, the crunch from something being broken and the groans and yelps of pain carrying down the hall easily. Sirius' tounge danced across his lips in a rare show of nervousness, his eyes darting around waiting to see who was attacking who and slightly concerned he was next. He began inching himself off the floor to take a quick look at the scuffle but as he got up midnight struck. Sirius immediately blacked out, dropping back to the floor like a puppet that had it's strings cute. As he fell down he had the ghost of a name on his lips... "Antares".


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I do not own the Harry Potter Series nor the original story that this is based off those rights belong to J. K Rowling and the characters in this story are owned or based off the series created by J. K Rowling as well. Also this is the first story I have ever really wrote and all feedback is welcome. Enjoy

Harry awoke to the sound of his aunt Petunia rapping at his door "Boy! BOY!, GET UP!". Jumping up with a start he nearly hit his head on the roof of his cupboard "uh I'm-" noticing the change in his voice he cleared his throat "sor- sorry aunt Petunia I'm up". There was silence on the other side of the door, for a moment Harry wondered if she had walked away.

"Vernon! VERNON there's something wrong with the boy! VERNON! " Immediately Harry began to panic, creating a scene in the morning never ended well. "BOY, WHAT HAVE YOU DONE? YOU UNGRATEFUL LITTLE WHELP, I'LL HAVE YOU PUT IN AN ORPHANAGE, I'LL LEAVE YOU ON THE STREETS. YOUR FREAKISHNESS IS NOT WELCOME IN THIS HOME" the rage in his uncle's voice accentuated with the thunderous stomping as he came down the stairs.

Harry pushed himself into the farthest thing corner of his cupboard as he heard whispers quickly darting back and forth. "Boy, are you ill?" his uncle spat out but the barely concealed fear was there as well. "y -yeah I'm not feeling well" he said shakily. Palms sweating he waiting as the jittery whispers came back. "Is it contagious?" Petunia's voice was much more shrill than usual. 'Contagious' Harry thought, searching for the meaning "do you mean can it spread to other people? uh-yea maybe - i mean I've been coughing a lot, I've lost my voice a bit".

More hushed whispers, Harry moved almost silently to his cot slowly lowering himself down to it. Still trying to listen in to the conversation outside his door. His uncle cleared his throat "Well stay in here boy, I don't want you getting us sick" his uncle said the fear less apparent but the resentment loud and clear.

As they walked off Harry finally began to relax, he was very confused maybe a little scared, even if he didn't want to admit it. Looking at his hands he noticed he seemed much paler than usual, even a bit taller maybe. Harry's hands went to his face and realised he didn't have his glasses on, sitting up sharply he saw them on his cot from the night before.

Harry could barely see without them and yet, on what was shaping up to be a very confusing birthday, he was seeing clearer than he ever had when he wore his glasses. Eyesight that poor doesn't fix itself overnight, maybe with his magic but he could barely levitate twigs for too long without feeling exhausted. Harry didn't feel like himself anymore and now he didnt even think he looked like himself anymore.

An hour or so had passed filled with anxiously waiting for everyone to leave the house and after convincing Vernon and Petunia that he needed the cupboard door unlocked, Harry finally crept out of cupboard. Taking a moment he looked around taking in the wonder that was perfect vision, a grin brightening his face.

Deciding the coast was clear he darted up the stairs with considerable ease, 'definitely taller' he noted once he got to the top. When he reached the bathroom door he suddenly found he couldn't move, sure he was viciously curious but he was scared. If he had changed as much as he thought he had, well what did he do from there. He wouldn't be allowed to stay here anymore, not that he enjoyed it but it was better than nowhere.

He couldn't stay out in the hallway forever, steeling himself he slowly opened the door walking in the bathroom with faked confidence. In less than a second the confidence was gone, he felt like a wave had just crashed into him sending him flying and knocking the wind from his lungs.

The person he was looking at in the mirror was not Harry Potter, who Harry Potter is or was he didn't know but he did know that he wasn't the same person he seemed to be yesterday.

His hair was a much lighter brown, instead of the unruly straight tuffs it used to have it had mellowed out slightly, starting relatively straight and slowly morphing out into curls at the ends, only long enough to just get in his eyes. His eyes were a very sharp yet light blue, similar to ice, framed by long black lashes. He had a longer looking face with much more defined cheekbones and jawbones that were bound to become impressive in years to come. He was much taller and his build had shifted, shedding the incredibly scrawny build for something slightly sturdier. His skin had paled considerably but it didn't look sickly it complimented his feature. He didn't know it but he looked like the perfect pureblood heir.

As Harry took in his new appearance the one thing he regarded with annoyance was the lightning bolt mark that sat on his forehead and forcefully rubbing it. However after eyeing it critically he conceded it wasn't as visible as it was, simply just a little discoloured. Harry gave me a small nod to his new relfecting, although jerky and unsure it was a start. Now he just had to figure out what to do next.


End file.
